Abandoned Home

passion and revolution come
like lilies burned at the stem of
a dying shepherd’s lullaby.

all the bad language and
marxisms we incinerated in
a drop of a forgotten manifesto
shall not rise again with swift
incantation of apocalypse or
sudden kiss but

with bled hymenal flood of anguish
and beauty scorched from the belly
of this monstrous whale whose
intestines we have eaten, spat
out in blood, disillusioned and
calcined from dead prophecies
remembered, folded, and burned.